


Carol of the Bells

by arsenicandsunshine



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Writer Merlin (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28305972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenicandsunshine/pseuds/arsenicandsunshine
Summary: Arthur Pendragon hates Christmas. So when he starts dragging along Merlin to do every festive thing he can think of this year, Merlin's left mystified—and a little concerned. This much Christmas can’t be good for anyone.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Above All The Bustle

**Author's Note:**

> Merlin’s just arrived at Arthur’s for their traditional Christmas movie night...and he’s a bit concerned....

Arthur Pendragon hated Christmas.

So why his flat was decorated within an inch of its life three weeks before the holiday was a mystery. Merlin stood inside the door in shock. An eight foot tree scrapped the extra tall ceilings, a gilded star on top and the rest covered in heavy ornaments. Fancy, hand blown glass ornaments mixed with ones that looked suspiciously like the Tesco’s box Merlin had bought for his own tree.

“It looks like the North Pole threw up in here,” Merlin said, gingerly stepping around a train set. The little electric train was merrily circling the Christmas tree, and somehow taking up far too much space in the ostentatious living room.

Arthur shrugged. “I always decorate for Christmas.”

“Yes, on the 22nd, after I’ve hounded you all month for being a Scrooge.”

“Well, who’s the Scrooge now, Merlin?” Arthur said with a wink, and walked into the kitchen.

“Not the man who’s bought out the entirety of Harrods, that’s for sure,” Merlin muttered, following Arthur into the kitchen where he found a whole new surprise.

There, cooling on the worktop on neat wire racks, were rows and rows of sugar cookies. Merlin couldn’t help but stare as his brain had stopped working.

“Thought it would be nice to do something for the neighbours this year.”

“Like what, poison them?”

The only normal part about the scene was the utter disaster taking up the rest of the kitchen. The mixer was still out, covered in dough, and the granite worktop was more white than black at this point, curtesy of the flour. Half of the measuring cups had made it into the sink, but had yet to be rinsed.

“Your sister and Gwen are going to be in any minute, you need to get this cleaned up.”

Arthur had actually started picking at the mess in the sink. “I know, I lost track of time.”

Merlin got over the shock of Arthur not attempting to pass off the chores onto him, and then had to process the added shock of Arthur not even asking for help.

Actually, Arthur wasn’t doing much of anything as far as Merlin was concerned. He was just doing the washing up.

In silence.

Merlin was standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen when a knock on the front door saved him saying something ridiculous. Like commenting on the winter sunlight in Arthur’s hair, or something equally appalling. His brain had a helpful habit of short circuting when he got nervous.

“I’ll get it!” Merlin yelled, with a little too much enthusiasm for how close he was to Arthur. He caught a glimpse of Arthur’s raised eyebrow as he fled for the front door.

“Gwen! Morgana!”

“Merlin,” Morgana said sweetly, kissing him on each cheek, “Where’s that brother of mine?”

“Kitchen,” Merlin said, giving Gwen a hug.

“Really?”

“Don’t act suprised until you see what he did to the place.”

Somewhere along the line during uni, this had become their tradition. The four of them together on the first Friday of December, no matter what, watching “How The Grinch Stole Christmas”—the one with Jim Carrey, even though it creeped Gwen out.

“And there’s a perfectly nice alternative too,” Gwen was saying, the three of them settled on the sofas after Arthur shooed them out of the kitchen with a dish towel.

“The animated version is definitely better,” Morgana said.

“You did not just say that!” Arthur plopped down on the couch in-between Gwen and Merlin, bowl of popcorn in hand and a smudge of flour on his cheek all that remained from the baking frenzy. Well, that and the six dozen Christmas biscuts.

“I said what I said.”

“We could always change the film to Die Hard,” Arthur said, with a twinkle in his eye. Merlin rolled his eyes as Morgana sat up, the same spark flashing in her own eyes. He was not about to put with further Pendragon sibling arguments. Not during Christmas. This was the one time of year they were suppose to behave.

“Die Hard is not a Christmas film!”

“It’s absolutely—”

“Not what we’re watching tonight,” Merlin interrupted, snagging the remote.

Arthur grumbled as he settled back. After smacking Merlin with a pillow. Merlin glared at him and smoothed his hair down.

The film started, as it always did, and Merlin stared, as he always did. It wasn’t his fault Arthur was so damn distracting, with his golden hair and the soft lines starting to show up around his eyes. More pronounced today than other days.

Arthur caught him staring, a fond grin breaking out on his face. Merlin tore his gaze back to the TV before that got any weirder.

Merlin tried to settle into the familiar ritual, the unofficial kick off to his favourite time of year. But he couldn’t shake the certaintity, despite Arthur’s claims to the contrary, there was something eating Arthur Pendragon.

— -

Merlin was, of course, the last to leave. It always worked out that way, somehow. Usually he’d volunteer to help clean, and start on the washing up. Then he’d look up and it would be just him and Arthur.

“Do you still want to come over and help me decorate tomorrow?” Merlin asked.

“Of course,” Arthur said automatically, wiping down the worktop. His hand slowed, then stopped. “I mean, if you still want me to.”

“Sure,” Merlin said hurriedly, “I just, you know, wasn’t sure, if you’d be all decorated out....”

“That’s not how you use that word, Merlin,” Arthur said, looking back at the worktop.

“Commonly known as slang, Arthur,” Merlin said, and turned back to rinse out the sink.

“I know,” Arthur muttered behind his back.

Merlin wiped down the sink, and Arthur finished with the rest of the kitchen, boxing up the cooled cookies in neat paper boxes Merlin knew for a fact he hadn’t owned before this afternoon.

Arthur walked Merlin out and it was all strained and formal and he hated it.

“Well, see you tomorrow then,” Merlin said, shrugging into his coat.

“I’d love to help, if you still want it.”

“I thought we covered this? Of course I do.”

Before Merlin could say anything else, Arthur dragged him into an unexpected hug. Merlin had made peace with the fact he was far more affection than Arthur would ever be a long time ago, so the sudden smell of Arthur’s t-shirt and the feel of Arthur’s arms wrapped around him brought up a sudden choked sob in his throat. He blinked it away, and returned the hug just as Arthur started to pull away.

Arthur stilled in his arms, and then buried his face in Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin didn’t say anything, just knit his brows together in concern and ran his fingertips up and down Arthur’s back.

When Arthur actually broke away, he had a smile pasted in place and slapped Merlin on the shoulder.

“Well then, see you tomorrow. Bright and early.”

Merlin groaned.

“It’s my one day to have a lie-in.”

“Gotta get a head start on the decorating, won’t do itself you know,” Arthur said, shoving Merlin out the door, “I’ll bring coffee.”

“I have coffee, you dolt.”

“That sludge you have shoved in the back of the cupboard doesn’t count as coffee, Merlin.”

Merlin hesitated, out in the hall, Arthur holding the door open.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Arthur’s grip on the door tightened. “Of course, what else are friends for?”

Merlin gritted his teeth ever so slightly, nodded, and left.


	2. Reindeer Don't Drink Cocoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's got an agenda, and it doesn't include cluing Merlin in. He's celebrating Christmas, why does he have to talk about his feelings?

True to his word, Arthur showed up at Merlin’s bright and early. Merlin answered the door in the rumpled band shirt he’d slept in, rubbing his eyes with one hand. 

“I brought coffee!” Arthur said, waving a bag in Merlin’s face instead of saying “good morning,” like a normal person. Then again, a normal person also wouldn’t have shown up at their so-called best mate’s flat at this hour. Merlin groaned and leaned against the door as Arthur brushed past him with arms full of God knew what. 

He was bustling about in the kitchen before Merlin had time to wonder where that coffeemaker had come from. He didn’t own…. 

“So I was thinking, garlands with lights around the windows?” 

Oh, he did. The one Arthur “gifted” him a few years ago, and he’d shoved in the cupboard only Arthur opened when he was here too early. Or late. Arthur Pendragon was one of those annoying people who drink caffeine all day and still sleep like a baby. 

“Merlin?” Arthur was holding a mug of coffee out towards him. 

Merlin wrinkled his nose. “I’m not drinking that.” 

Arthur waved the mug under his nose, “It’s got twice the caffeine, and you’re going to need it.” 

“That cannot be true,” Merlin muttered, grasping desperately for the comfort of his kettle. 

“So the windows?” 

“What about them?” Merlin continued muttering, this time into the tea tin. Why did humanity continue to insist it was acceptable to be awake before ten in the morning? 

“Lights and garlands, they’d be perfect and Christmassy and all.” 

Merlin hesitated, a spoonful of tea hovering over the pot. Arthur sounded uncharacteristically unsure. 

“Are you asking for my opinion?” 

“Well, Merlin, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it is you’re flat.” 

That the comfortable arrogance he knew so well. Merlin scrubbed at his face as he waited for the tea to steep. 

“So the garlands, I’ve got—” 

“Yes, sure, fine,” Merlin said, desperate for Arthur to stop talking. 

Arthur did, blessedly, cease speaking. He leaned on the edge of the worktop, watching Merlin watch the tea. The sun broke through the clouds and danced on the old hardwood floors Merlin loved so much. Arthur was smiled softly to himself, and Merlin didn’t want to interrupt the moment to ask what grand secret of the universe he held. There’d be time for that later. He was sure of it as he poured the tea into a mug and knocked his mug against Arthur’s. 

He held up a finger when Arthur tried to start with the speaking again, taking a long, bracing drink of his tea, despite the burn on his lips. 

“Alright. Where do we start?” 

Arthur grinned, rubbing his hands together. 

“You do the best impression you can of a comic book villain?” 

Arthur wagged his eyebrows and retrieved the boxes he’d lugged up the stairs. “We talked about the windows, and I brought a mini-tree that will be perfect for your desk.” 

“Arthur, I do not need two trees.” 

Arthur ignored him, digging the tree out of a box and carrying on about a Christmas village for the coffee table. 

“And I’d like to use my coffee table,” Merlin said, as Arthur took the tree over to his desk. 

Merlin’s desk was in front of a window, a view of rooflines, but it didn’t matter to Merlin as long as he could see the sky. Printed pages of his last project cluttered the desk, sitting idle on a laptop he hadn’t touched in longer than he cared to think about. 

Arthur picked up the top page. “You do realise they make this wonderful things called computers, right?” 

Merlin rolled his eyes and snatched the page out of Arthur’s hands. He smoothed it back on top of the stack, not answering. Arthur ran a finger through the dust on the top of the closed laptop. Merlin thought of the leather-bound notebook beside his bed, and the few scribbled lines of writing that were all he’d written in months. 

“I’ve been busy.” 

Arthur said nothing, turning to the boxes of decorations. Merlin took a deep breath, full of relief. 

“I also have decorations, you prat,” he added. 

Arthur smirked, handing him a box of hand blown glass ornaments. 

“I know.” 

“I also,” Merlin said, waving the boxes to the cleared out—but empty—spot in front of the window. “Do not have a tree.” 

Arthur winced. “Well, I suppose we start there.” 

Merlin put the ornaments on the table. Arthur light up. “Oh! I know the perfect place.” 

Merlin again thought of the leather notebook and the abandon ideas. “Arthur—” 

“Oh, come off it, it’ll be fun.” He turned to Merlin with a serious look. “Don’t be a Scrooge, Merlin.” 

“How could I ever,” Merlin deadpanned. 

They stared at each other until Arthur broke down laughing. Merlin couldn’t help but join in. 

“All right, you berk, let’s go.” 

“Knew you’d see my side,” Arthur said, pulling on his coat. Merlin resisted the childish urge to throw one of the sofa pillows at him. 

— - 

Stepping out of the car, the scent of pine and decisions overwhelmed Merlin. One look at the rows and rows of Christmas trees left him rooted to the pavement. Arthur grabbed his hand and drug him into the thick of it. 

The pine was stronger here. As was the crippling indecision. Merlin usually snagged the first tree he saw, spinning it to hide any imperfection and moaning about the lopsidedness to Morgana, who rolled her eyes and told him to make better decisions. 

“What about this one?” Arthur asked, flattening out the bottom branches of a stately fir. 

“That’s twelve feet tall!” 

“No it isn’t, see? It’s barely taller than me!” 

Merlin brushed past Arthur, squinting at the trees and trying to see what made them all so different. They had to be different, right? That one was. It had fluffy needles. 

“No, you’re right,” Arthur said, following him down the aisle between the trees, “Fraser does smell better.” 

“I don’t,” Merlin waved his hands in front of them, “Really care that much.” 

Arthur looked appalled. 

“What do you mean, you don’t care? It’s going to be sitting in your living room for a month!” 

“Or longer.” 

“Oh, that’s right, you enjoy having a fire hazard around. How could I forget?” 

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just…. have a hard time figuring out how the tree’s going to look decorated. They all look the same.” 

“They do not!” Arthur said, taking charge and going straight for the Balsam firs he insisted where a superior tree. It was more comforting than Merlin cared to think about, Arthur marching in front and making all the decisions. 

Or it was, until Arthur kept trying to shunt said decision back onto him, which only resulted in a good fifteen minutes of arguing back and forth about whether that tree did or did not have a hole in the back. 

“I can just face that towards the window, it’s fine.” 

“We’ll make a decision soon,” Arthur said, apologising to the proprietor of the lot. 

“Don’t mind me dear, you two take your time,” she said with a knowing smile. Merlin thought the smile a bit odd, but before he could contemplate it, Arthur was dragging him down another row of trees. 

At the back far corner of the lot, Merlin walked into the perfect tree. Literally, as he was looking over his shoulder and yelling at Arthur when it happened. After he spit out the pine needles and took a step back, he knew. This was his tree. 

“It’s perfect.” 

“It’s a little short,” Arthur said. 

Merlin rolled his eyes. “You’re perfect, don’t let him tell you otherwise,” he said, to the perfectly shaped Christmas tree that also smelled insanely good. 

Arthur grumbled a bit, but shut up when Merlin reminded him it was his tree. They drug it up to the front, where a teenager sawed off the bottom couple of inches while Merlin paid for the tree. 

“First Christmas?” the owner asked, counting out the change. 

Arthur and Merlin traded a look, confusion knit in both their brows. 

“Always a special one, well, apart from the arguing over whose family to spend it with,” she carried on, handing Merlin his change. 

“Oh,” Arthur said. 

A blush crept up Merlin’s face, as Arthur stood there like a statue, saying nothing else with an odd look on his face. 

It was a quiet ride back to Merlin’s place, the two of them lost in their thoughts. Merlin slumped against the window, chin in his hand, and studied the profile of Arthur’s face, thinking about a conversation he’d had with Morgana a couple months ago. 

“I hate to break it too you,” Morgana had said, leaning in over her coffee, “But you’re in love with Arthur.” 

“I know,” Merlin said, taking a sip of his tea. 

Morgana froze in shock, her eyes wide. And then she got angry. “Well then, why the fuck haven’t you done anything about it?” 

Merlin shrugged. “It’ll work itself out.” 

“You need to tell him.” 

Merlin had looked up in horror— the same reaction to Arthur turning and narrowing his eyes. 

“We’re here.” 

“Yep. See that.” 

They got out of the car in a silence that lasted until they had to lug the tree up three flights of stairs and Merlin couldn’t find his tree stand. 

When the stockings were hung by the fireplace with care—and the windows were trimmed in lights and garlands and the trees was covered in tinsel and a tiny village occupied the coffee table and more lights hung throughout the apartment—Arthur and Merlin collapsed on the sofa. 

Merlin snuck one more glance at Arthur, to find his eyes closed and his breathing slow. 

He knew. 

He knew he was in love with Arthur Pendragon. 

He’d always known.

— -

Over the following weeks, it only got stranger. Ice skating, further Christmas shopping, even carolling with friends of Arthur’s from work. Arthur seemed to be working through a list, mostly involving dragging Merlin into London proper, and the time on the train alone sucked up the free time in Merlin’s days. It was a sparking mess, covered in all the trappings of the season and leaving Merlin conflicted. He loved sharing this time of year with Arthur, but when it came down to it, he’d rather sit down with a quiet cup of tea and talk to Arthur about whatever it was creeping into the tense hold of his shoulders. And then he’d take a day and scream into the void—more commonly known as the torture of sitting down to write. The dream of quiting his day job seemed more distant than ever. 

Presently, Arthur was standing in Merlin’s kitchen with a cup of that bloody awful coffee he insisted on drinking like an absolute heathen. 

“You want to what?” 

Arthur poked at the frayed edge of Merlin’s rug with the toe of his shoe. 

“You know, that holiday market. The one you always talk about going to every Christmas but never do.” 

Merlin continued to do little but blink. That was true—he just forgot, in the hectic chaos of the Christmas season. 

“Well?” Arthur asked, with that stupid grin on face. The one Merlin stood no chance against. And Arthur knew it, much as might try to deny it. 

“Fine.” 

Arthur kept grinning, throwing Merlin’s hat and scarf in his face. 

— - 

It was a perfect day to walk through a Christmas market, cold but not so frigid Merlin wanted to bury his face in his scarf—even if that meant he was going to walk into a wall. Rows of stalls overflowed with colourful goods of all kinds, and an overabundance of Christmas ornaments, and couples wandered about carrying cups of hot chocolate. There was Christmas music floating out from some unknown source, and children running by laughing. Merlin felt rather like he wanted to hold Arthur’s hand. A stolen glance at Arthur found him scowling at the phone. 

“Everything okay?” 

Arthur swapped the scowl for a fake smile with blinding speed. “Of course! This is great.” 

Merlin felt his own smile becoming wooden. 

“Arthur? Why are we here? You normally won’t shut up about how cliche these kinds of things are. You don’t like Christmas markets,” Merlin said, waving a hand at the picturesque scene of a mum struggling to get a crying child to follow her towards the exit. 

“No, but you seem to,” Arthur said, continuing down the row of stalls. 

Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. His friend was trying to do something nice, and he was being an ass. 

He behaved himself for a whole five minutes until Arthur said something sappy about a hand carven nativity set he insisted on buying. 

Merlin stopped. “You hate Christmas.” 

“I do not.” 

“Okay, well, it fits.” 

“It does not!” 

“Says the man who refused to put up a tree before the 23rd!” 

“They die! And besides,” Arthur said, smiling at the cute cashier, “The needles get everywhere.” 

Merlin furrowed his brow, the absurdity of the conversation catching up to him. 

“But you did…. put up a tree… early this year.” 

Arthur looked guilty. Merlin narrowed his eyes. 

“You put an artificial tree, didn’t you?” 

“Do you think Morgana would like this?” Arthur asked, holding up a bright pink purse with fuzzy handles. 

“Yes, Arthur, I think your sister who owns nothing but black leather would love that neon abomination.” 

He felt a bit guilty at the dirty look the booth owner sent his way, hiding himself behind Arthur who was still admiring the purse for some reason. The myriad of coloured bags in the stall were giving him a headache. He ducked out and wander further down, stopping at a display of handcrafted icicle ornaments. He felt Arthur creep up behind him, breath warm on the back of his neck. 

“An artificial tree, really Arthur?” 

Arthur groaned and kept walking, rounding a bend in the market. And stopped walking immediately, if Merlin running smack into him was any indication. After he peeled himself off the back of Arthur’s coat, he realised why. Santa had brought a few friends to help with the Christmas wish lists. 

“Holy shit, actual reindeer!” 

“Merlin!” 

“What?” 

“There’s children around,” Arthur hissed. 

“Right. Sorry,” he said, bumping Arthur’s shoulder with his own. Still grinning, he pulled Arthur over to the fence behind which the reindeer were nosing at the hay spread on the ground. Except for one buck who was keeping a careful eye on them. 

“Well, he’s a suspicious chap,” Arthur said. 

“Maybe he’s got a right to be,” Merlin said, side-eyeing Arthur. 

“I’m an angel, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Merlin burst out laughing and Arthur wandered away to an adult dressed as an elf. Merlin watched as Arthur said something to her and then dug in his pocket, purchasing a bag of the overpriced feed-corn and bringing it back to Merlin with a smile on his face. 

He took Merlin’s hand and shaking corn into his palm. 

“See? I’ve got Christmas spirit in spades,” Arthur said, holding out his own hand full of bribes, “What’s more Christmassy than feeding Rudolph?” 

The elf had wandered over, supervising the feeding. Merlin stroked the nose of the reindeer eating out of his hand. 

“He doesn’t like Christmas, he put up an artificial tree after forcing me to buy an expensive, too tall, real tree.” 

The elf gave them a strained smile and moved on. 

“That tree looks perfect in your flat,” Arthur said. 

It did. It was pure Christmas magic and his flat looked like a holiday card. But he wasn’t about to admit that to Arthur. 

Two cups of hot chocolate and another lap of the market, and it was obvious to both parties involved there was a bit of stalling going on. Merlin had steeled himself to leave, lecturing himself about wasting time and fading dreams. Arthur stopped near the reindeer again and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“We could go for a drink?” 

Merlin was so torn. But there was Arthur, standing there and smiling in front of him, and the promise of a crowded pub with terrible beer and gaudy Christmas lights. More appealing the cold train ride back. 

“Yeah, alright.” 

He may not have done any writing that day. Or month. But he stumbled in the door after several pints with a happy glow that had more to due with the company than the drinks. And that was fine with him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Well kids, here it is. Merthur Christmas Fluff in five parts. Stay tuned and stay merry.


End file.
